Soluna
Rising Star
I have always known that someday I would find myself here. Although, always and someday are not the right words for they imply actions in time. And time was not important in how I came to be here on the edge of the precipice.
When I opened the door to the forum I found kindred spirits reveling in the beauty of the world and marveling in the life that surrounds. It is not a journey through time that has brought me here, but more of a journey through space. It was a journey of off-handed recommendations for books. It was late nights talking about things that have no objective measures of existence. It was suggestions for music.
It was watching koyaanisqatsi, which taught me the juxtaposition of time and beauty. It was the knife welding boar hunter suggesting, since we were simpatico, that I might enjoy A Journey to the East. It was Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance and the realization that good should triumph over logic. It was the Doors of Perception for introducing me to Blake and Rintrah.
It was a lover giving me this:
And so I sought out René Daumal and read Mount Analogue: A Novel of Symbolically Authentic Non-Euclidean Adventures in Mountain Climbing.
And I should mention one book I truly treasure - The Polar Express for this:
I now sit on the edge of the precipice from which I look into an unknown world. The smell of root bark and vinegar stain my nose and they are now in the freezer.
When I opened the door to the forum I found kindred spirits reveling in the beauty of the world and marveling in the life that surrounds. It is not a journey through time that has brought me here, but more of a journey through space. It was a journey of off-handed recommendations for books. It was late nights talking about things that have no objective measures of existence. It was suggestions for music.
It was watching koyaanisqatsi, which taught me the juxtaposition of time and beauty. It was the knife welding boar hunter suggesting, since we were simpatico, that I might enjoy A Journey to the East. It was Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance and the realization that good should triumph over logic. It was the Doors of Perception for introducing me to Blake and Rintrah.
It was a lover giving me this:
"You cannot always stay on the summits. You have to come down again... So what’s the point? Only this: what is above knows what is below, what is below does not know what is above. While climbing, take note of all the difficulties along your path. During the descent, you will no longer see them, but you will know that they are there if you have observed carefully. There is an art to finding your way in the lower regions by the memory of what you have seen when you were higher up. When you can no longer see, you can at least still know. . ." - René Daumal, Mount Analogue.
And so I sought out René Daumal and read Mount Analogue: A Novel of Symbolically Authentic Non-Euclidean Adventures in Mountain Climbing.
And I should mention one book I truly treasure - The Polar Express for this:
"At one time, most of my friends could hear the bell, but as years passed, it fell silent for all of them. Even Sarah found one Christmas that she could no longer hear its sweet sound. Though I've grown old, the bell still rings for me, as it does for all who truly believe.”
― Chris Van Allsburg, The Polar Express
I now sit on the edge of the precipice from which I look into an unknown world. The smell of root bark and vinegar stain my nose and they are now in the freezer.